the clouds fly me away
by dustbutterfly
Summary: Harry Potter would very much like to keep his mortal safe, but Ginny Weasley has a rather annoying habit of crossing roads without looking. One shot.


_i. the clouds fly me away_

Ginny starts to cross the road and Harry almost swears when she doesn't see the black cab speeding directly towards her. The driver is talking over his shoulder to the passenger, not even pretending to look at the road.

And it is as if time itself slowed down to allow Harry to _think_ for a few seconds. He focuses, because he has only taken on a mortal appearance once before when he was actually in the mortal world and that… well. That hadn't gone well at all. Admittedly, the falling bombs had been a bit of a distraction but _still_. He is supposed to be one of the best guardians, the son of Lily and her mortal who had cheated death so many times.

But Ginny is his mortal's fifth reincarnation in the fifty years since her soul was Born and Harry has seen the Guardian of the Elder Tree far too many times for an angel so young. He needs to get his mortal – this foolish, red haired girl who never looks before crossing roads – to adulthood at least once or his guardianship will be stripped and he –

Harry feels his wings retract into his shoulder blades, a curious tingling sensation that reminds him of the time Cho kissed him after he helped to save her mortal. Cedric, his name was. A nice enough chap, really, even if his life being saved meant that Jemima – his mortal's third reincarnation – died. Harry had got a bollocking from Lily and Dumbledore that time, _oh_ yes.

Time starts to speed up and the mortals don't even notice another body solidifying in front of them, although Harry can feel the disapproving eyes of their guardians. It isn't as if direct intervention is forbidden, exactly, and most guardians probably think he's just following his mother's footsteps.

The cab is gaining ground on Ginny – who _still_ hasn't noticed she is about to get run over – and Harry doesn't have time to muse about the strengths and weaknesses of direct and indirect influence over mortal lives.

He grabs Ginny's hand and tugs her back towards the pavement, just as the cab went whizzing by the place she was standing a split second before.

Unlike Harry, Ginny doesn't hold back on the swearing when she realises what almost happened. It was a colourful paragraph that would make a demon blush. A young mother nearby covers her son's ears in shock and Harry, still holding Ginny's hand, pulls her even further onto the safety of the street.

 _Now_ , he thinks. _What would Mum do?_

The first time his mortal died, Harry held the little body and wept for the life that could never have been. Tuberculosis had taken the little boy – Sam Riley, his name was, that first mortal. Lily materialised in front of Harry and held him while he shook with grief. She went with him to the Elder Tree that day so he could deliver the soul to the guardian to be reborn and, okay, obviously nearly being hit by a car isn't the same as having to watch a little boy slowly fade but Harry wraps his arms around Ginny anyway.

It feels… cathartic. Harry hadn't touched his mortal since Sam's death, desperately sticking to indirect influence for all that he is worth. That hadn't saved Eva or Jemima or poor Pierre, though, Harry realises with a jolt. Maybe…

"Thank you," a small voice mutters against his chest. He pulls away slightly and Ginny takes a step back, shaking her head. "No, seriously, thank you so much. God, you actually saved my life, how crazy is that?"

"Anytime," he says automatically and then winces. He'd always imagined that, if he ever _did_ speak to his mortal, the first thing he said would be profound and meaningful. He manages to stop himself from saying _it's not as if it's my job or anything_ because his mum is always telling him that angels aren't sarcastic. She always says it a little sadly, though, so Harry thinks it must remind her of his dad.

He also stops himself from saying it because Ginny doesn't know that guardian angels exist and he can't even give her the tiniest inkling. Besides, this reincarnation wouldn't want to know that she has the equivalent of what he thinks mortals call 'bodyguards'. She's very independent, is Ginny. Not at all like Jemima was.

"Anytime, huh?" Ginny grins and her face seems to light up. The air seems to catch in Harry's throat. "I'm Ginny."

"I know," replies Harry, without thinking and the smile instantly vanishes off Ginny's face. He closes his eyes. _Stupid, stupid, stupid._ "That – I didn't mean – you're wearing a name tag. That has your name on it. Ginny. Hi."

He opens his eyes slowly, not really wanting to see Ginny's reaction but _needing_ to see it at the same time. It's a relief, then, to see that a smile is still playing about her lips. It's not quite as consuming and brilliant as the one before he made an idiot of himself but-

"Hi," Ginny says, moving so she can lean on a wall and be out of the pedestrians' way.

The pedestrians' guardians, incidentally, are still looking at Harry strangely.

"Hi."

Ginny rolls her eyes. "You know, you could… I don't know, this might sound crazy, but you could tell me your name, maybe, so I can buy you a drink or something. My brothers own a bar, you know, so we can go there. If you want. That's actually where I was going before… Please say something. Anything."

"Harry," he chokes out because this is not how he expected his day to go and he should have really checked with Dumbledore before making direct contact. "My name is Harry and… and I think I'd like that drink."

If Harry was more like Draco, he might have winked then and said something like, _it's not every day you save a beautiful girl from disaster_.

If Harry was more like Hermione, he would have thought of all the consequences of directly influencing the lives of mortals.

But Harry was as alike to Draco as he ever wanted to be – the other boy's father was _literally_ a demon – and Hermione would probably never even find out because her mortal had a family… thing tonight so she would need to be whispering positive thoughts into his ear the whole night.

Harry could have a drink – he'd always been fascinated by the concept of alcohol but his mortal had never actually been old enough to drink it. He could have just one drink and then make up an excuse about having to work early and leave.

Of course, he would have to come back in his true form in order to keep an eye on Ginny but she wouldn't know that. It wouldn't exactly be a lie, either. Keeping an eye on Ginny was, after all, his job.


End file.
